Incorrigible
by ModernScribe
Summary: 'Bella had missed the day God handed out self-preservation instincts and probably still believed caution was just a seven-letter word on a wet-floor sign.'B&E childhood story, AH


**A/N: Wow, it's been a long time since I last posted. I'm going to blame my year abroad for this. Not that that stopped me from reading, but you know how it is. I actually tried to stay away for the year, but failed miserably. I caved after a month. Oh, what a strong will I have. I hope you enjoy this little story of mine anyway. **

**Dedicated to all the writers that make up the Twilight Archive. I've been a silent spectator for too long.**

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Incorrigible

The flock of startled birds rising up in a multicolored flurry from the forest clearing would have been a beautiful sight had the only two people there to witness it not been too engaged in their staring match to the death to notice.

"No."

"Yes."

"No!"

"Yes!"

"No, no, no! I've let you do a lot of stupid things in the past, but this is going too far!" Edward punctuated this statement by narrowing his eyes at his best friend, giving her his best imitation of his father's icy blue death glare, the one that made even the stray dogs that terrorized the family farm at night run away with their tails between their legs.

Bella just stood there, impervious, her arms crossed in front of her sunny yellow T-shirt in the universally accepted sign of unwavering determination, and matched his glare with one of her own.

The minutes ticked by. Exactly 1.1 miles away in Mr. Newton's field, a tractor backfired. The clear sound of creative cursing followed immediately after.

Without warning, Bella changed tactics. Thrusting out her bottom lip and widening her eyes to epic proportions, she assumed her ultimate offensive position: _The Puppy Look_. "Please, please, please, Edward! I promise I'll be more careful," she whined in her best pathetic tone. "Nothing will happen if you're there, you know that."

Edward groaned. She never thought anything would happen. Bella had missed the day God handed out self-preservation instincts and probably still believed caution was just a seven-letter word on a wet-floor sign. She had never met a rule she didn't want to break and, considering her talent for creating chaos, few she hadn't already.

Bella was a tiny thing—the shortest in their grade—but only idiots made the mistake of underestimating her ability to wreak havoc on a scale geometrically greater than her size. Just two weeks ago, she'd decided the best way to celebrate their new summer freedom would be to steal her father's secret stash of holiday fireworks and set them off outside grouchy old Mr. Newton's window as payback for him taking their soccer ball hostage after Edward kicked it at his equally grouchy cat in a moment of mental abstraction earlier that spring. The first part of their firework revenge went off without any problems, despite Edward's constant predictions of imminent doom. The second part, they were not so lucky. Unfortunately for everyone involved, Bella and Edward had misjudged the amount of damage five sparkling sensations could do. They'd been riling up Mr. Newton for years, but they'd never seen him so angry before. His red face and furiously twisted mustache were nothing, however, compared to their parents' reactions when the volunteer fire department had finally declared the area safe and they all saw the remnants of Mr. Newton's living room wall.

After that incident, they'd been banned from going within a one-mile radius of Mr. Newton's fortunately relatively isolated farm, not to mention grounded without allowance until Edward could shave and Bella finished college. Their parents had also tried to separate them, but that hadn't worked since they were seven when Bella (always the little monkey) had mastered the art of climbing up Edward's bedroom trellis to keep him company and drink his chicken noodle soup while he recuperated from the nasty case of pneumonia he'd caught after spending three hours in the rain proving he didn't have cooties. It was only due to Bella's _The Puppy Look_ that they were out on limited probation now. Under no condition were they to get into any trouble whatsoever, particularly if that trouble involved Mr. Newton in any way, which, or form.

"You're incorrigible, you know that?" Edward said, pulling sharply up on his ever-present belt. He tried not to wince at the resulting wedgie and made a mental note to adjust himself at the soonest opportunity.

Clearly interpreting this tug-and-wince as a sign of his imminent surrender, Bella dropped _The Puppy Look_ and donned her customary Puck-esque grin. "Yep." She made sure to pop the P, swinging her head so that her sloppy ponytail of stick-straight brown hair slapped across both cheeks and barely missed whacking Edward's horn-rimmed glasses off his nose.

Edward took a hasty step back from the potentially lethal ponytail and rolled his eyes. "You don't even know what incorrigible means, do you?"

"Yeah I do. You told me last week, remember?" Bella's grin widened, consuming the entire bottom half of her heart-shaped face and causing the corners of her eyes to crinkle in fear of a similar fate.

The significant crease between Edward's eyebrows became even more pronounced as he tried to recollect when he had last had an opportunity to explain his new favorite adjective to his companion. Was it before or after her failed attempt to bake him sorry-for-blowing-up-the-neighbor's-house-and-getting-you-in-trouble cookies had almost resulted in the second fire alert of the summer?

Before he could, he was saved the necessity of a rejoinder by Bella's cry of, "Come on, let's go!", as she sprinted off in the direction of the old oak tree located just over the hill—incedently on the wrong side of their radius. Her sudden departure took him by surprise and for several moments he just stood there, blinking stupidly at the vacant air in front of him.

It wasn't until she returned to pull him along behind her that it finally dawned on him that once again Bella had blatantly ignored his wishes. Raking his free hand roughly through his shaggy, bronze-colored hair, he let out a growl of frustration and allowed her to lead him to their destination on the eastern edge of Mr. Newton's cow pasture.

They made an odd pair tramping through the underbrush. Bella and Edward were as much alike in physical appearance as two sides of a shiny penny. While her long, dark-brown mane resembled a bundle of semi-regular saplings destined for marshmallow roasting, his odd mixture of red and brown curls looked more like a misshapen nest designed by a blind bird, a situation not helped by his habit of running his hand through it whenever Bella caused him undue amounts of stress. Her skin glowed with rosy health, although his retained a perpetual pallor regardless of how many hours he spent chasing after her in the sun. She had also stopped growing around the light switch while his hair dusted the broken chandelier hanging from the ceiling of his mother's pottery shed. It would have been an awkward sight to see them together, but everyone was used to it by now. Ever since the day ten years ago that her family had bought his family's guesthouse, they'd been practically handcuffed to each other, both literally and figuratively.

They arrived in front of the ancient tree a few minutes and several ignored protests later. Bella waved her hand in an elaborate flourish, clearly indicating that he was to help her up. Edward resisted the urge to roll his eyes for what felt like the hundredth time that day. This was wrong.

_So_ wrong.

On so many levels.

This tree had been here on Mr. Newton's land for as long as anyone in the small farming town of Forks, Washington (population 2,004) could remember. And it had been about that long since anyone had made it to the top.

Every so often, someone would dare a friend to try it, but they never made it far before something made them come down. More often than not, this something was the untimely arrival of Mr. Newton with his uncanny ability to predict when his demon tree was being violated and his favorite double-barreled shotgun, although not always. It was widely acknowledged that the tree was cursed, but superstition held little meaning for either Bella or Edward. She simply didn't care and he was far to busy worrying about the tree's questionable structural integrity to concern himself with petty rumors.

The tree looked like it was about to fall over any minute. Generations of wannabe legends had broken off most of the lower branches and a tradition of thunderstorms determined to prove lighting can strike the same place twice had taken care of most of the rest. The scarred and pitted surface was a veritable hive of sleeper splinters just waiting for an exposed patch of skin to invade. The town had petitioned regularly for its removal, and after a quarter of a century, Mr. Newton had finally relented. Operation public health hazard demolition was scheduled for next week.

That was why they were here.

Thirty minutes ago, Edward had made the mistake of saying he was bored and Bella had seized the opportunity to utilize their temporary, if past experience was any indication, freedom to fulfill her life-long ambition of being the only one to reach the top before it was too late. Probation be damned, nothing and no one was going to make her miss her last chance to prove those superstitious non-believers wrong.

Edward was one hundred percent positive this was what their parents had meant when they said trouble, but if ten years of being best friends with Bella Swan had taught him anything, it was that resistance was futile against her. It wasn't that he didn't try, because he did; she just didn't listen. Ever. It was frustrating, but he'd long ago come to terms with his role of reluctant accomplice in their relationship. After years of trying to convince her that "fun" and "possibly life-threatening" didn't have to be synonymous, he'd decided that at least if he went with her, there would be a witness to testify for her at her trial, presuming of course he weren't in the defendant's seat as well. In no way was his decision at all influenced by the very small part of him buried very, very, very deeply past the nerdy glasses and gangly exterior that kind of, sort of, maybe enjoyed the rush Bella's rule-breaking and supremely dangerous plans gave him and secretly looked forward to the arrival of the mischievous glint in her maple eyes that signaled the arrival of another.

"Fine! Fine!" With a huff and a theatrical flourish, Edward pulled off his belt and handed it to her in a clear gesture of, if not condonance, at least acceptance.

They had decided early on in their trouble-making careers that a belt was an instrumental tool of the trade. At first Bella had been the one to provide the all-important accessory, but eventually her carefree and forgetful nature meant the task fell to Edward, and he'd accepted with aplomb. Over the years, Edward had assembled a large collection of belts and all twenty-four of them were the pride and glory of his closet shelf. He never left the house without one, no matter how many fashion faux pas he committed in the process. Only Bella never teased him about his borderline obsession, having seen first hand the value of a belt in a crisis. She considered it a testament to their friendship that he was willing to humiliate himself on a daily basis just so they would always have a way to tie up the occasional watchdog or suspend themselves out windows. It was just one of the many ways she knew of that he took care of her.

The belt Edward gave her today was his favorite. It was a present from Bella on his twelfth birthday two years ago. Extra long, made of sturdy brown leather, the clasp was a little stiff and some of the holes were covered with duct tape, but it had yet to let him down and, with any luck, it would continue its streak for Bella now.

"But don't expect me to change your pee bag for you when you're in a coma," he finished.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" Bella snatched the offered belt and jumped up to kiss him on the cheek.

Edward pretended to be disgusted, but he bent down quickly to hide his blush. With a shrug of his shoulders, he gestured for her to step on. She did so with surprising delicacy, meticulously avoiding his lower back and putting most of her negligible weight on the tree trunk. He could only giver her an extra foot or so, but it combined with a carefully aimed toss of the belt at the lowest bough was enough to hoist herself up. As soon as he felt her weight leave him, he stepped back to watch her go.

Her tiny frame came in handy as she jumped from limb to limb, slinging the belt around the hard-to-reach branches and pulling them to her with an air of casual grace. She paused every few feet to take stock of her position and make the necessary adjustments to her path.

Despite her obvious display of aptitude, every slap of the belt and responding groan of the tree made Edward wince and clench his hair painfully in his fists. Only loyalty and fear kept him rooted to the leaf-strewn ground more firmly, he was sure, than the tree his friend was currently scaling. Any minute he was positive Mr. Newton was going to pop up, wielding his favorite gun and eager to shoot himself some troublemaking teens for dinner. The look of maniacal glee on his face when he discovered which troublemaking teens, exactly, he'd caught was almost more sickening for Edward to imagine than Bella's prone and mangled body lying at his feet. Bella wouldn't be the only one to fulfill a dream today then. He would have laughed at his own joke if he were in the mood to appreciate irony, which he really wasn't given the circumstances.

Up and up she went, oblivious to the mental marathon going on below, her ponytail wagging and yellow shirt standing out against the unusually clear summer sky like a second sun. Already she was higher than anyone had ever gotten. Edward'd had to stop watching after she put her foot on a bad branch and nearly fallen. If it hadn't been for the belt already slung around the next limb, he'd have been preparing her eulogy right now. Not that he wasn't anyway, just in case, but it was more of an instinctual response to Bella's imminent state rather than a conscious decision based on her current situation that motivated it. He was attempting, albeit unsuccessfully, to remain optimistic.

Minutes, hours, eternities passed in wave after wave of pent-up anxiety on Edward's part and a few more death-defying stunts on Bella's.

Finally, it was over. She was at the top.

"Edward, look at me!"

Edward slowly peeled his hands away from his smudged lenses where they had been firmly cemented for the past half-hour. And then he promptly grabbed his hair again. "Bella, stop hanging this instant!"

Bella just laughed and continued to swing herself lightly back and forth on the topmost branch. She might as well have been hanging from the monkey bars in the playground of Forks' one elementary school for all the fear she displayed. Edward couldn't see much from where he stood on the ground, but even from there he could see the smile on her face. It wasn't the smug smile of satisfaction he would have expected, nor was it the broad grin of accomplishment he would have predicted. It was instead the light smile of a person who has found the place where she belongs. Even though his best friend was currently suspended from a rotting, fifty-foot tall tree with only a single, ratty old belt as an insurance policy, not to mention the fact that they were both dead regardless of if she actually managed to make it down alive, Edward felt the crease between his eyes melt away at the sight and a rare smile graced his face.

"You're incorrigible, you know that?" he called up to her.

"Yep." She made sure to pop the P.

There was a long moment of companionable silence before she spoke again. "Since we're here, you want to see if Mr. Newton's fixed his wall yet?"

Just like that, Edward's frown was back. "No!"

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**A/N: At this time, I am NOT planning a sequel to this story. Thank you for reading.**


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